The Undying Past Part 71

Shame kept him silent. Whether from far or near Ulrich's hand was ever held out to him in loving, helpful friends.h.i.+p. He was a fool so to underrate his own strength of mind. Surely Leo Sellenthin could never be capable of the infamy of which he had been standing in such nameless dread?

"You will come, won't you?" she implored.

"Yes," he answered with prompt decision.

"Soon?"

"Yes, soon."

"To-morrow?"

He hesitated. That would look too much like pa.s.sionate haste.

"I am engaged to-morrow at Knutzendorf," he replied.

"Beg off!"

"No."

"Leo!" she urged reproachfully.

"Would you have me neglect my duties?"

"G.o.d forbid. But remember, till you set foot across my threshold, not a minute will go by without my expecting you."

The companion ladder was let down. They struck the opposite bank, and the bar crunched on its frozen hinges.

"Good-bye!"

"Good-bye!"

Their hands met in a clinging grasp which it seemed as though only force could separate. Then they let go of each other with a start. He settled her in her seat and wrapped the furs about her. The horse moved on, the bells began to tinkle, and the sleigh melted into the grey distance like a silver phantom. The ferry raft gurgled back into the water, and old Jurgens breathed heavily as he pulled. His steering strings swished in the air like a cat-of-nine-tails. Leo, leaning against the side, listened to the dying echo of the sleigh-bells.

The moon was waning. The ice-floes split against the wide keel of the boat.

x.x.x

"My Dear Mamma,

"Nearly all the boys are going home for Christmas. Erich Froben will stay here because he has no mamma, and Fritz Lawsky because he has only a guardian, and If., who comes from India, and is as yellow as a Gruyere cheese. All the other boys are going home. Why mayn't I come home? Some of them have a longer journey to their homes than I have.

Oh, I do want to come home so badly. I cry every morning and every night because I may not come home. There are six days to Christmas now.

There is going to be a party, and the boys who stay here for Christmas will get their parcels of presents when the tree is lit up. And a bell is rung, the school bell. If. will get something too; for the Head wrote to his papa, who said he would send his presents over in a s.h.i.+p.

Have you got my list of the things I want? Perhaps it has got lost; that would be awful. But I'll write another list to make sure.

"List of Presents.

"1. A big box of lead soldiers--real thick ones, with proper bodies, not the smooth kind; they are no good.

"2. A fortress, a proper fortress, with a bridge that draws up and trenches that hold water, and the men who are shot fall into it.

"3. A cannon.

"4. Another cannon, which makes two cannons, and two cannons for the enemy too, because without, you couldn't have a battle.

"5. Lots of little cannons. An army must have artillery, and the side that has the best artillery beats.

"6. A menagerie. If. has got a menagerie.

"7. A pen-wiper; one in the shape of an owl is the prettiest.

"8. Would have been a pocket-knife, but crossed out, because the Head says any fellow who gets a pocket-knife will have it confiscated.

"9. A pocket ink-stand. Kleist has one; you press a n.o.b and it springs open. It's a jolly thing, and doesn't ink your trousers.

"10. Can't think of anything more except sweets. Lots of them, of course, because without sweets it wouldn't be Christmas.

"Ah, but I would like best of all to come home. Dear, dear mamma, why mayn't I? But if I really mustn't, I'll try and be good. But it makes me cry when I think about it. The boys don't tease me now, and I have to thank If. for that. Once they bullied me so, they made me bleed, but If., who is quite small, too, went for the big boys with his penknife, and it was confiscated, but they were awfully frightened. Please send lots and lots of lead soldiers; I want to give half to If. And now good-bye,

"From your loving son,

"Paul.

"Postscript--I shall be awfully pleased when my parcel comes."

This epistle arrived at Munsterberg addressed to Minna Huth on the Sunday before Christmas. Felicitas read it over and over again, and each time it brought tears to her eyes, but she refrained from despatching it to Ulrich, for as likely as not he would have started off at once to fetch the child home from Wiesbaden.

To make up for sinning against the boy, she collected an unreasonable number of expensive presents from the best toy-shops which were destined to ornament Paul's Christmas table. Two great packets had come from Berlin, from which she was making a selection, for in her motherly pride she wished to send the presents direct to her son and not to let them pa.s.s through other hands.

Her corner-boudoir was strewn with cardboard boxes and brown paper, and was full of the fragrance of marzipan and ginger-nuts, which she had baked herself.

Felicitas was busy packing the boxes, which, to make sure of their arriving in time from Munsterberg, were to be sent off by the night train. Her sleeves were turned up above her rosy elbows, and she had put on a large blue cotton ap.r.o.n. She was radiant with excitement, and delighting in her task. She knelt on the carpet amongst the boxes, arranged the soldiers in order of battle, gave a punchinello a kiss on the beard, for the dear child who was to possess him, and watched with laughing amus.e.m.e.nt a balloon rise in the air with a tiny trapeze attached to it on which a toy acrobat performed his antics.

Apparently she was absorbed in what she was doing, but from time to time, Minna, who was helping her, observed that she would let her active hands fall suddenly in her lap and turn her eyes to the window with wistful longing.

"You are expecting some one, gracious little madame," she inquired at length. The wizened, yellow face bristled with curiosity.

Felicitas sighed and shook her head. Three days had gone by since that night on the ferry, and Leo had not yet put in an appearance.

"That is the way of gentlemen," the old sewing-woman philosophised; "they promise to come and don't."

Felicitas had told her nothing of her meeting with Leo, but since the old woman had seen her return that night with suspiciously sparkling eyes, she had put two and two together.

Towards four o'clock the house bell clanged. Felicitas made a bound towards the door.